Heaven's Gate and Shortcake
by KyaaaaCollab
Summary: Flowerbud Village is a community that celebrates, mourns, and grows together. Sometimes the closest communities can also be the loneliest. HM64.
1. Karen: My Ebb and Flow

So...

Writing in a diary...I can't say I ever envisioned myself doing a thing like this, but here goes nothing.

Where do I begin...should I start with my "broken" past or start with my "broken" present? I grew up here...I know everyone here...and yet, I feel like I am walking through life beside them instead of with them. To say I feel trapped would be the understatement of the century. Trapped in my head, trapped in this town, trapped in this failing vineyard and trapped in the grief that surrounds me everywhere I look.

I wake up in the morning with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's another day. Another time to rise and shine, yet somehow I seem to let everyone down over and over again. I can't say that I'm trying my best...I just don't have the motivation. The willpower.

When night falls, I find relief all alone by the shore. My happy place. Watching the waves ebb and flow. It's almost hypnotic to me. I dream that someday they will take me away. I hate this place.

I drown myself in my one true friend who takes my pain away if even just for a while: wine. Yes, that's me. Karen, the snarky girl who can outdrink anyone in this town. I'm not sure whether it's something to be proud of or not. Don't they know how I hurt inside? That this is how I cover it all up? I suppose not...but no one in this town really understands anything at all.

I wasn't always this way. Sure, I have always been different from the others my age, but I haven't always been like _this_. So bitter I hardly recognize myself...so cold I push anyone who might care away. And yet, I do nothing to change it.

Won't something change in this town? I fear for myself if it doesn't. What will I become? Will I die alone? No one interests me…no one connects with me. But are they to blame when I give nothing in return? I know how I must seem. Snarky. Sassy. Call it what you will, but if they only knew how I felt inside.

I don't _need_ anyone. I'm used to facing these demons alone. But, when will I admit to myself that I might _want_ someone to share these things with? I don't have many friends. I think I want to reach out, but I don't know how. Which brings me back to you, diary - an echoing of my own thoughts laid out so simply. I don't think I want to be alone anymore.

Karen


	2. Elli: Sour Like Vinegar

Dear Diary,

Today I was baking some biscuits for breakfast and realized we were completely out of buttermilk. I felt kind of embarrassed because I had already promised a breakfast of biscuits and gravy and there I was, missing the key component.

Grandma was sitting in her rocker, sipping at her black pekoe as she always does at seven-thirty. Closed eyes, calm expression, a quiet grace about her. She rocks back and forth to a rhythm I can't feel. She emits serenity and there is a gleam in her eye I just can't understand. She knows her place in this world and it brings comfort to her.

I wish I could say the same..

I was trying not to panic as I dug through the cupboards for some sort of solution. Sausage gravy on pancakes doesn't sound too bad, does it?

Huh, that requires buttermilk, too...

Why am I constantly screwing up? Sure, this wasn't something terribly important, but still…

I can hear her voice from across the room. "Ah, I haven't had those crumbly biscuits in such a long time. My mother used to sell them at her shop, you know…"

The rocking chair was creaking along with my pacing on the old floorboards and I knew that she had picked up on my anxious behavior. I absolutely hate that if something's wrong, it's completely written on my face.

She was surely imagining being a young girl, sitting at the counter of the shop, shoveling her mother's home cooking in her mouth like there's no tomorrow.

I really hated the idea of taking that away from her with something as simple as forgetting to purchase buttermilk in advance.

I found myself wringing my apron between my fingers, staring into the bowl of flour with frustration. Jeff would've known what to do. My mind drew a blank and the sputtering pot of sausage gravy pulled me from my thoughts.

Of course this was the time that the gravy was perfectly seasoned - a slight kick from black pepper and cayenne, the milk providing a hint of sweetness, and the sausage taking the spotlight with savory flavor.

Huh, Jeff would have probably laughed at me for that description. Who do I think I am? The Gourmet?

With a quick stir and disappointed sigh, I dragged myself into the dining area, frustrated with myself for ruining a perfectly good meal. No sooner was I in front of her when she uttered a single world:

"Vinegar."

I blinked at her for a moment and wondered if she was thinking of things to add to the grocery list. Perhaps she wanted me to do some house cleaning - she always swore by the cleaning power of vinegar.

It's so hard to tell with Grandma Ellen sometimes, and I hate the slight twinge of guilt I always feel when I wonder if it's not me being confused, but rather, her mind is slipping instead.

"Mix some vinegar and milk and let it sit. Mom swore by it."

A weight is lifted off of my shoulders. "Ah, right! Thanks, Grandma!" I must've been muttering to myself again in the kitchen. I was pretty embarrassed at how flustered I got, but the biscuits seemed fluffier and tastier than usual this morning. I don't think it was solely the vinegar, though.

I wonder if I will ever get to that point she is at? Will I ever be brave enough to try to find my own solutions, or am I always going to be relying on others? Jeff always steps in at work if I botch a recipe. Grandma has a practical answer to everything. Greg always knows the right bait to use and what locations have the most fish.

Sometimes I really wonder if I'm too weak to stand on my own. Will I ever form my own ways of doing things, or is it just always going to be a collection of advice from others? Can I even call myself my own person?

Suddenly, the biscuits and gravy feel heavy in my stomach...

Sincerely,

Elli


End file.
